


Hated You From Hello

by Rudublynn



Series: When All Is Strife [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Dancing, Fluff, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Intimacy, Multi, Nudity, Public Display of Affection, Rare Pairings, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance, Slow Burn, Spiritual, Survival Training, Xeno, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8509330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rudublynn/pseuds/Rudublynn
Summary: "Don't you have to be stupid somewhere else?" The Krogan warned, his eye ridges narrowing at the pest like creature before him. His question is left open and even before he could continue there's a laugh. Another across the room is crouched on the floor peering over a dead body, fingers crimson stained. The Drell is grinning:"Not until four."What begins as a growing love between Brood (Blood pack member) and Relke Drau (Kahji docking bay head security) in the spring of 2180 quickly mutates into something far more harrowing when word is going around about upcoming war. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never truly the last, their tale is stretched through the fabrication of solemn stars. A time of oncoming destruction being rumors of 'metal beasts' and where making personal connections to others was an atrocious idea. 'Hated You From Hello' Is a battle of a dark sickened love, rising over the haunting that is their very galaxy which seeks to destroy the fabric of life itself.The large Krogan chuckled, removing his gun with a quip, "Well, we better hurry, shan't we?"





	

Chapter One:

MSV Inferno, Entering Terminus Systems, Hourglass Nebula – 07:00(?) – 12 Feburary, 2180 CE

It’s weird (or maybe not, he’s not really sure of what _is _and _isn’t _socially acceptable anymore), but Relke kind of expected that the second he threw one foot precariously trough the blue force field. Jumping to his death, amidst the grand space he’d be hit with a moment of clarity. That his brain would suddenly realize that yes, this is what he needs to do, without question. Instead, his mind conjures an image of blood gently washing over the docked ships windshields.____

____Of course, it’s too dark at night for him to possibly be able to see actual blood,_ _ _ _

____but the thought is comforting._ _ _ _

____'It shouldn’t be comforting', he reminds himself sharply. But well, he’s going to die soon anyway, why not go into his mind one last time? It’s not like he’ll have any opportunity to act on it when he’s going to be squashed by a incoming ship. He closes his eyes again and imagines the victims. Slaves. The Missing people in the news two months ago were found, dead of course. All races were discovered scorched in a trash container. Mangled limbs and broken jaw bones. Right outside his dwelling._ _ _ _

____Instances like that don't happen on the Hanar home world. The Planet itself is a basic eye opener for peace and tranquility. Yet these past few years it has, well. Been tainted abit. Relke has seen tons of people come and go out of these docks. Of all shapes and sizes, big, small, short, tall. You name it he could give you a decent description of the very Batarian that swiped your bags. He should know, he's reported instances like that over 40 times. Well, he thinks its up to that number anyways. But, he should of known. Should of spotted the wrong in those container shipments. Relke is the head of the Docking Guard for Arashu's good sake! She must of saw what was happening before he did? You'd think there'd be this blaring sign for him to help find them before-_ _ _ _

____No. Why would that ever happen?_ _ _ _

____This isn't like the human stories, where the detective Sherlock Holmes finds all the children and rescues them. There was no saving these people, only false hope. Besides, they were dead upon arrival. The very delivers that brought the containers here were merely in this sector to dump the bodies._ _ _ _

____The blue field reflects his sunken face, the bags under his eyes only seem darker._ _ _ _

____He reaches his hands out-_ _ _ _

____((Wait, He isn't at work here. He’s in a small apartment building. There’s music playing. He's running down the stairs again to the door. Smelling the stench of rotting flesh for the last few weeks had finally gotten to him, he decided. The trash dumpster is pried open and he stands over them. The missing people. Mostly children are bundled in that ball (he'd call it) of the discarded dead. Relke had reached out, webbed fingers gentle through the Human females soft tendrils, caked now with a muddle color of different blood types. He doesn't holler for help, not a word. Hands hold the fragile child, shaking at how light she was. Deprived. Starved))_ _ _ _

____“Damnit,” Relke curses, opening his eyes and pounding his hand against the nearest wall in a show of frustration before realizing that fist plus metal equals fucking ow. He’s actually shaking as he pinpoints that it was the docked ship that was interrupting his fantas- imagination. He’s still not entirely sure if he actually did any of that shit weeks prior. Maybe it was just a coincidence his brain conjured up. That’d sure as hell be the last time he’d be reading Westerlund News before bed. He laughs then, because this is the last time he’ll be doing anything. This is all too confusing for him._ _ _ _

____Clutching his throbbing hand, he slowly comes back to himself enough (but not enough because the urges are still there) to look over to the parked Ship. A cruiser. Looks rustic if he'd ever laid eyes on one in that model. The Drell laid his unharmed appendage on a beam and balanced himself as he made out the large vessel. On its hull there lay a worn looking print, etched into the metal it seemed. Reading, MSV Inferno. The year on its face either burned or scrubbed off as all that's left of its recorded creation is a grey splotch._ _ _ _

_____Weird. ____ _ _ _

______This being a cargo dropping station, why would a personal ferry be over here? Relke pauses at the stretch of blue again and bends down a bit, underneath he could barely make out the scratches and dings against the ship's exterior, he had to really squint between the blue reflective light and how well the damage itself was covered. Not repaired, he could tell for the shadows that lined each dent was covered with only a thick layer of paint._ _ _ _ _ _

______'Kind of big for a personal cruiser too.; Relke noted, seeing what few of the other parked container ships were in the area earlier that evening. It was only as he started concentrating on the scrapped windshield did he back up, realizing that his consciousness had been analyzing a ploy to distract him. Crazy as that may sound, his own mind was trying to syce him out from jumping._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Oh- no. Not again, not doing this shit." His self growls rang out determinedly, keeping his foot at the edge. Keeping both eyes locked on the roaring water miles below him, the quote unquote 'Kahje Surface' The planning, the weeks he mulled over different yet creative ways for his death had been a film series in his thoughts. Each roll to fill, places to film and schemes to direct. A star of his own one act show, the finale. Snorting at how ridiculous that sounded out loud Relke stepped back from the free fall. Yet another hesitation._ _ _ _ _ _

______Afraid. Rethinking- Red eyes scan his surroundings with a pitiful sigh. Its then he noticed yet another odd standout in his realty. Where there’s a Krogan looking up at him. Who has clearly been distracted from -_ _ _ _ _ _

______Oh._ _ _ _ _ _

______Throwing limbs over the side._ _ _ _ _ _

______Salarian limbs._ _ _ _ _ _

______At least, from what Relke can make out. Okay, knowing that before he died, he gets he'd gone completely bonkers and was doing the universe a favor. He’s not even conscious of what he’s acting out until he’s realized that he’s just waved at a krogan dumping a body, or at least half of one. Relke only counted a pair of legs and one arm from where he stood. It’s slightly more alarming when the beast like creature-person dumps the last couple of pieces into the water below and then heads for the opening of the bridge coming back to the docking bay._ _ _ _ _ _

______To him._ _ _ _ _ _

______For a moment, he panics and considers leaping into the water before the krogan strides its happy butt on over. Then he realizes that worst case scenario is that this krogan kills him, which would actually be quite agreeable to Relke, so he just waits patiently leaning on the metal beam. He looks to the floor and considers whether he should kick his boots off before he jumps. It just kind of seems unnecessarily proper to wear boots when you’re about to off yourself. He never liked any sort of boots anyway. Too constricting. He kicks his left boot off and he smiles when he cant make out even the pinprick of its shape against the miles of sea. Much like the dead Salarians he eyed as they were discarded over the edge. Their forms engulfed by the rage of the ocean, hungry for any chaotic energy to add to its power. Not much to it, thinking that when his own self to be swallowed whole by the waves._ _ _ _ _ _

______A throat is cleared and Relke jumps slightly, startled by the interruption to his thoughts. He looks to the left and oh, it’s just the serial killer._ _ _ _ _ _

______No big deal._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Lovely evening for bodies,” he says, conversationally._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stupid, stupi-_ _ _ _ _ _

______He takes a moment to appreciate the other males fitted clothing. It looks expensive. Relke kind of admires the man for doing what he was doing in a suit, kind of. As if it’s just an errand one completes on the way home from a job._ _ _ _ _ _

______Funny that?_ _ _ _ _ _

______The male lets out a hum of what he could make out being acknowledgment before speaking, the rows of teeth glistening against the illuminated station. "Do you make it a habit on standing this close to a barrier like you are?" Quick witted. Relke leans further into the pole, wishing it would turn soft like his cushions back at the house. Welcoming. But- he made his choice._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Its going to be pretty tonight." He reply's with an excepted expression, ease lining his recently tight features. The fear of the fall leaving his minds presence at the newcomers approach. Not the fear that he had first felt, no. It was the over all confusion to why he'd not kill him already. Relke's practically waiting for his end now at the hands of this-  
"My apologies, what is your name?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______That seems to spark some interest in the other, he can see that his breath stopped for a fraction of a second. If he hadn't been watching the krogan, he wouldn't of noticed the narrowing of his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Brood."_ _ _ _ _ _

______That was it. Short, comical almost? He dare say. It was a silent moment, a series of seconds ticking in his head at the scenic situation he found himself in. The sky above them turning a darker shade of orange in the days end. Right. Names.-_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Interesting name you have there, is it your actual-" A warning look from the krogan 'Brood' sends a shiver running down his back, his tongue pressed to his teeth to keep a hiss from escaping. "I'm Relke Drau." That settles things. It’s a habitual motion, hands at his frills with an awkward chuckle, turning his head to the right to regard the greeting a.i. that isn’t there any longer. No cozy loft where he can retreat, regroup, and reorder his thoughts under the pretext of browsing his books. None of that. From the corner of his eye he sees the fluid, oddly graceful movement accented by the casual, clinging lines of Broods grey slacks. Relke watches with interest as he takes what seemingly appears to to be eyeing him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Now that Relke puts aside his suicidal tendencies, he points out again that this surprisingly nice cereal killer has a strip of leather over lapping the top of his forehead crest and to an patch over his left eye. Don't have to ponder much on that one._ _ _ _ _ _

Gaze clings to the gnarled appealing teeth that gleam inside the open maw of the male they belonged too. He's yelling? Relke furrows a non-existent brow with the action bringing himself back to their seemingly shaken reality. Red flashes of lights surrounded them, theres a shout somewhere not far off. Its even before The Krogan has his hand gripped around the smallers neck that everything goes to hell.

_'I should've jumped.' ___

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One Song// "Help Me Out" - Low Roar -


End file.
